


Love is a Game

by Bones (thepiesandthebees)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Rival Professors, short fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepiesandthebees/pseuds/Bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rival English Professors Castiel Shurley and Dean Winchester compete using their students' achievements, but maybe they're willing to settle their differences for an evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is a Game

The two most popular English professors were at it yet again. Dr. Dean Winchester and Dr. Castiel Shurley glared at each other from across the hall. Students watched them with amused and curious looks. Castiel had on a full suit and a trenchcoat that he only took off in the classroom. A pair of thin glasses were perched on his nose. In contrast, Dean stood in dark jeans and a button down shirt that might have looked professional had he not rolled the sleeves up.

“I heard one of your students got published in a literary journal,” Castiel said.

Dean nodded and held Castiel’s eyes. His fucking beautiful, blue eyes. The bastard. “That’s right,” Dean said with a smug smile.

“Congratulations to them.” A wicked smile touched Castiel’s lips, the gesture seeming to promise all kinds of devious things that Dean really should not have been thinking about. “One of my students just had a novel published.”

Dean’s smile slipped, and Castiel walked past him with a triumphant smirk. “This isn’t over, Shurley,” Dean grumbled.

“I’m sure.” Castiel turned into his classroom and shut the door behind him.

The sound of someone sucking air through their teeth made Dean turn. Professor Charlie Bradbury stood outside the door to Dean’s classroom. Strands of her fiery hair stuck out from their messy bun. She stared at Dean with knowing, green eyes. “Tough luck, buddy,” she said. “Although, congrats to your student.”

Dean sighed and started for his classroom. Charlie stepped away from the door to allow him to open it. They walked in. “One of these days, I swear I’m going to beat that cocky son of a bitch,” Dean muttered as he set his messenger bag on the desk in the corner of the room’s front.

Charlie chuckled. “All the students love him. He’s got a 4.6 on Rate My Professor, and a chili pepper.”

“I have a 4.6 on Rate My Professor and a chili pepper, too.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a student who’s published a novel.” Charlie grinned when Dean grimaced. “You’re still my favorite, though.”

Dean cocked a brow. “I thought you went for the women.”

“Fine, you’re my favorite in a totally platonic and non-sexual way.” She gave him a wry look. “And speaking of totally platonic, non-sexual attraction, when are you going to tell Cas you write poetry about his eyes in your dreams?”

Dean averted his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, right, you two are all about the competition.” She sighed. “Even if love were a game, you two would play it all wrong.”

Dean sat in his swivel chair and booted up the Mac computer the school provided for every Language Arts and Social Science classroom. Charlie, being the head of the Computer Sciences Department, always sneered at the computers. She didn’t like Macs, and always went into detail about the aesthetic and functionality debate concerning Macs and PCs. Most of her computer talk went over Dean’s head, but she didn’t actually expect him to understand. She just wanted someone to listen.

“Don’t you have a class to teach?” Dean asked when Charlie sat in a desk at the front, nearest to Dean.

She shook her head. “I just finished my last class for today, and I’ve decided to hang with you until Anna finishes up her lecture.”

“All right.”

A group of students walked into the classroom and took seats in varying places. Dean took note of the few who sat in the back, the ones who sat by the door, and the one, blonde girl who sat at the very front. She was a brilliant writer—by far one the most inspirational contemporary authors Dean had ever had the privilege of teaching. He could see she was destined for great things, if only she wasn’t so shy about sharing her work.

“Jo,” he said. She looked up from her phone to him. “You mind if I use your last essay as an example for today?”

Her cheeks reddened, but she nodded. “Sure.”

He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Thanks.”

She nodded again and returned to looking through her phone. Charlie gave Dean a wide smile. “That your star student?”

“She’s an amazing writer,” Dean said proudly. “You should see the short story she just had published. It made Anna cry.”

Charlie’s brows rose. “Damn. It must be some short story if it made Anna cry.”

More students filtered in, and the minutes until class time ticked by steadily. When the clock on the back wall finally clicked to 2:05, Dean stood. The class immediately went quiet. “We have a guest today,” Dean said and gestured to Charlie. “This is Professor Charlie Bradbury. She’s the head of the Computer Science Department, and can hack all your electronic devices faster than you can blink. So if I see any phones out, I will give it to Charlie. She will slip past your passcode, and then send embarrassing text messages to all your friends.”

A student in the back raised his hand. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“I dunno, but it’s not like Charlie leaves behind evidence.”

The professor in question turned around a gave a sly look at the students. Dean smiled in amusement before clearing his throat and saying, “I hope you all finished reading The _Epic of Gilgamesh_ last night because—”

The door opened and a boy with a backward cap and sagging jeans sauntered in. “Drop and give me a haiku,” Dean said.

The boy grimaced but sat at the nearest empty desk and pulled out a notebook. While he counted syllables on his fingers, Dean continued his lecture. “As I was saying, I hope you did the reading because today we’re going to be discussing the themes in _Gilgamesh_ , but first, do any of you have any questions about the epic?”

A girl in the center of the class raised her hand. “So that whole thing with Enkidu...was that...gay?”

Whispers broke out among the class. Charlie visibly tensed, prepared to hear the homophobia. “It’s definitely implied,” Dean said carefully, “that the nature of Gilgamesh’s and Enkidu’s relationship was that of lovers.”

“They kiss and everything,” said another student. “I thought it was sweet.”

One of the boys in the back scowled. “It’s weird.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, prepared to lay down the law of his classroom, but at that moment, the boy who’d been late stood up and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “I like to kiss men. Kissing men is very nice. Capitalism.”

Dean stared at the boy a moment, trying to figure out if he’d just read his haiku or was blurting random words and hoping they made sense. “What?” the boy said and shrugged. “‘Capitalism’ has five syllables. A haiku is five-seven-five, right?”

Dean sighed. “Yes, Tony. That’s a haiku. Please turn it into me at the end of class.”

Tony nodded, then turned to the student who’d expressed his distaste for gayness. “Cheer up, man. You’ll find a guy who makes you happy.”

The homophobe grimaced. “Are you calling me gay?”

Tony raised his hands up in a “don’t shoot” gesture. “I’m just saying that making out with guys can be a lot of fun.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Dean interrupted. “Would you please sit down now?”

When Tony sat, the other boy stood up. “You wanna go?”

“Go where? Are you asking me out?”

The boy looked ready to charge. “That is enough!” Dean yelled. “Chris, if you want to fight, you can do it outside of my classroom. If you don’t think you can manage that, I will get the police to escort you out, and you will be dropped from the class. Is that understood?”

Chris sat back down in his chair sullenly, glaring daggers at Tony who looked completely unaffected. Dean admired the boy’s courage, but his recklessness was going to get him in trouble. “Getting back on topic,” Dean said, “Gilgamesh and Enkidu had a homosexual relationship, and as it said in the text, Gilgamesh loved Enkidu as he would have a wife. Now, I’ve had my fair share of men whom I’ve loved like a wife, and I agree with Tony’s haiku—not the capitalism part, the kissing men part.”

Chris shot up from his seat and stormed out of the classroom. The students clapped as he left, and Tony gave Dean a thumbs up and a nod of approval. Charlie muttered, “You’re gonna get an earful from the board.” But she was smiling gratefully.

Dean returned the smile. Maybe one of his students hadn’t published a novel, but they did write ridiculous haikus that chased off homophobes. If that wasn’t something to take pride in, Dean didn’t know what was.

#

Castiel looked over the students in his classroom. They’d broken into discussion groups and were heatedly arguing over the importance of Tomoe Gozen in _The Tale of the Heike._ There was an obvious gender divide. The women were arguing for her symbolic and character importance while most of the men argued that she was just a tool for Minamoto no Yoshinaka, her master. To Castiel’s surprise, however, a decent number of men were on Tomoe’s side, stating that she was a better warrior than Yoshinaka could have ever hoped to be and more significant to the Genpei War than him. Castiel was happy to see such a serious discussion of literature and history, but he was running out of class time.

“Okay!” he called over their voices. “Let’s get back on track. Have you all picked out your favorite passages?”

The groups all gave an enthusiastic “Yes!” Castiel turned to the first group. “Would one of you please read aloud?”

A girl volunteered and read the passage, then let her group speak their analysis. Castiel had each of the groups follow the same pattern until he came to the last group. They had chosen a controversial passage about Tomoe and then expressed that this was why she was better than Yoshinaka. The class erupted into debate again. Castiel let it unfold until he heard a boy say, “Women just aren’t as strong as men.”

“Hold on a second,” Castiel interrupted, his voice strong—though he didn’t shout. “What did you say?” He stared right at the boy to ensure the student knew to whom he’d directed his question.

“It’s just a biological fact,” the boy said. “Women aren’t as strong as men.”

When the women, and a select few men, started to protest, Castiel held up a hand. They quieted immediately. “Joan of Arc was seventeen when she led the French army, and even after her death, her war strategies persisted and succeeded. Catalina de Erauso pretended to be a man for much of her life and became a lieutenant in the Arauco War, killing several men in her time and outwitting many more. Grace O’Malley, also known as Grainne Mhaol, became the chieftain of her clan and used the ships she inherited to be one of the most fearsome pirates in Ireland. So do tell me, Mr. Brady, how you think women are weaker than men when they are some of the fiercest people in history.”

The boy glanced around at all the expectant eyes on him. When he said nothing, another boy muttered, “You just got owned.”

Castiel glanced up the clock. “It’s looks like our discussion ran three minutes over. I should let you all go.” As the students packed up, he added, “Don’t forget to give me your research proposals by 3 on Friday.”

While they filtered out, Dean walked in with Charlie following close behind. “What brings you two here?” Castiel asked, being sure not to look too long at Dean’s hazel eyes. He had a tendency to lose concentration while staring into their depths.

“I was just wondering if it’s illegal to imply that you’re gay in front of your students,” Dean said. “You know all the regulations.”

Castiel’s brows rose, and he looked past Dean to Charlie. “However did you manage to mention sexual orientation in a computer sciences class?”

Dean shook his head. “Not Charlie. Me.”

Castiel’s brows rose further as his heart betrayed him by skipping a beat with some misplaced spark of hope. “You?”

“Yeah, me.” Dean gave Castiel an odd look. “I thought your sister would have told you. I’m bi.”

“Anna doesn’t discuss you that much since you two broke up.” Castiel shoved a hand through his hair, mussing it further. For all the man’s professional attire and manner, he could not, for the life of him, get his hair in order. “It’s not illegal in this district, but it’s certainly frowned upon. Did you explicitly express that you were bisexual?”

Dean gave Castiel an unimpressed look. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Ouch,” Charlie muttered, withholding a laugh.

Dean shot her a pointed look. Castiel walked over to his desk and started packing his bag. “You should be fine, Dean,” he said. “Just be more careful about where you express your orientation.”

“Noted,” Dean grumbled.

“How did that even come up?” Castiel asked, honestly curious.

Charlie grinned. “They were discussing _Gilgamesh_ , and one of the students got all homophobic. So Tony, a gay student, stood up and read this gay haiku.”

“‘I like to kiss men. Kissing men is very nice. Capitalism,’” Dean recited with a shake of his head—though he smiled.

Castiel paused a moment, trying to determine if Dean had just said the haiku, or if he’d just spoken a random assemblage of words. “Why ‘capitalism’?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. “It has five syllables.”

Castiel slung his laptop bag over his shoulder. “Yes, well, you certainly have creative students.”

With a genuinely proud smile, Dean said, “I sure do.”

Despite his rivalry with Dean, Castiel couldn’t help but feel some admiration for a student who would say such a haiku aloud in order to combat a homophobe. He could have used a friend like that when he’d first come out in high school as gay. Anna had simply preferred using her fists to stop the bullying, but he’d always wanted a more peaceful solution—like that haiku.

“By the way, Dean,” Castiel said as he started out of the classroom, “have any of your students entered the poetry contest?”

Dean nodded. “A couple. And you?”

“A few. I expect you’ll be attending the open mic on Saturday to hear the winners.”

“Of course.”

A corner of Castiel’s lips pulled up. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck. My students are going to wipe the floor with your students.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Castiel felt Dean’s eyes on his back as he walked out.

#

The open mic session was held in the media center’s gallery, a wide space that easily fit the sixty or so students and teachers who attended. Students from all majors participated in spoken-word poetry, short stories, stand-up, and music. The master of ceremonies was none other than Castiel’s older brother, Gabriel, who was the head of the Theatre Arts Department. Dean had little opinion of the guy, having only met him once at a dinner with the Shurley family when he was still dating Anna. But he remembered Gabriel being loud and dramatic. Probably why he was in theatre.

“That was an awesome and long, long song,” Gabriel said as the last performer gathered his guitar and left. “You told me it was three minutes, Arnold. That was five.”

The musician shrugged in response. Gabriel rolled his eyes and grinned widely, looking over the audience. “Next up, I’ll be announcing the winners of this semester’s poetry competition. They’ll all be getting published in the school magazine, and since they don’t win anything else, I’ve decided to get them all questionably flavored jelly beans. Choose wisely, winners.”

Castiel, who was sitting two seats over from Dean in the front row, audibly sighed and gave his brother an exasperated look. In true Gabriel fashion, the older brother winked at Castiel and theatrically pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket. He unfolded and leaned up to the microphone. “In third place is…Meg Masters—for her poem about revenge. That was a truly terrifying poem, Meg.”

A girl with auburn hair stood and walked up to the front while the audience clapped. She barely came up to Gabriel’s chin, but something in the way she held herself as she took the jelly beans from him unsettled Dean. There was an almost predatory air about her.

Gabriel grabbed the microphone. “In second place is...Jo Harvelle—for her short story about single mothers. You made me cry, Jo...and all of the magazine committee. But don’t tell anyone because I was instructed never to speak of that.”

While the audience clapped, Jo stood and hesitantly walked to the front. Dean beamed when she looked his way, and she returned the smile with a small one of her own. As soon as Gabriel put the jelly beans in her hand, she hurried back to her seat.

“And last but not least,” Gabriel said, “first place goes to...Dick Roman—for his poem about power. That poem made me want to take over the world myself, Dick.”

Dean clapped with the rest of the audience. Dick was one of Castiel’s students. His rival had won again. But when Dean looked over at Castiel, the professor’s face was suspicious—eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. Dean grew wary. Castiel should have been proud.

Dick took his jelly beans from Gabriel, then sat down next to Eve. If Dean recalled correctly, the woman was the head of the magazine committee. Dean glanced back at Castiel to see the professor scowling at Dick and understanding dawned on him. Dick hadn’t won by his own merit.

#

Castiel had never been more furious in all his life. As he watched Dick and Eve chat while Gabriel called up the next performer, disgust filled him. This was an insult to all the writers who'd put their heart and soul into their work. First place didn't belong to Dick. It belonged to Jo.

While the next speaker got up to the mic, Castiel walked over to Dick. "Come with me," he demanded and started for the center's back doors. Dick followed obediently.

"What's up, professor?" Dick asked when they were alone outside.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "You got Eve to give you first place."

Dick's face darkened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, Dick. You—"

Dean walked through the back doors. If anyone had reason to be angry, it was him. His student had been cheated out of a well-deserved prize, but he looked oddly at ease. "Apparently, there's a group chat going on amongst the magazine committee," he said, stepping to Castiel's side to face Dick. "It's a text thing that doesn't include Eve. They all said they voted Jo for first place, yet Eve says otherwise."

Castiel could barely contain his fury. Only Dean's calm demeanor kept Castiel in check. "Gabriel's been informed," Dean continued. "He's announcing the revision as we speak. You and Eve are going to be taken by security to explain yourselves to the disciplinary officer. If he's feeling generous, you might just get a slap on the wrist, but knowing Bobby, you and Eve are going to get kicked out."

Dick stood stunned. He turned to Castiel. "Aren't you going to defend me?"

Castiel scowled. "Why should I?"

"Because then _he_ wins." Dick pointed to Dean. "Jo's his student."

"And she deserves first place."

Dean glanced at Castiel oddly. Dick muttered, "So that's it? You're going to let them kick me out?"

"And I'll sleep well at night knowing it." Castiel headed back inside. Dean gave Dick one last glare before following his fellow professor. Gabriel had just given Jo more jelly beans when they walked in.

"You seen more upset than me," Dean said as he watched Jo take her seat again, new light in her eyes. "You could have let Dick take first place."

"He's a decent writer, but his work has no soul." Castiel looked at Jo. "She's something special. Besides, my conscience would not allow me to let such an injustice slide."

Dean stared at Castiel a moment before saying with a smile, "I owe you a drink, Cas."

Castiel's eyes turned to Dean. "I don't drink."

"You will tonight."

Before Castiel could protest, Dean started back for his seat. Castiel sighed in resignation. One drink wouldn't kill him.

#

A bottle of wine later, Dean and Castiel were pleasantly buzzed. They were sitting at Dean’s dining table in his apartment with two empty glasses and an empty wine bottle staring at them.

“I thought you were a huge prick when we first met,” Castiel said. “And then you ended up being the huge prick who broke my sister’s heart.”

Dean frowned. “She broke my heart. _I_ was the one who got dumped. And _you_ were the prick. You and your suit and...big words.”

Castiel gave Dean an odd look. “You’re an English professor. You’re supposed to know big words.”

“Yeah, but I don’t throw them around like I’m the shit.”

“Sure you do. You just don’t realize it ‘cause you’re a dick.”

“I thought I was a prick.”

“That, too.”

In Dean’s drunken haze, he had trouble forming a comeback, but ultimately dropped the idea entirely when he got distracted by the way Castiel’s lips curled into a smile. “You have nice lips,” Dean mumbled.

Castiel’s smile widened. “Did I just hear a compliment from you?”

“No, you idiot, I’m flirting with you.”

Castiel cocked a brow. “And why would you do such a thing?”

“Because you’re smart and hot, and I’ve had enough alcohol to admit it.”

Castiel had a wry look. “So we should just put aside our petty rivalry and do something about this attraction between us?”

Dean nodded. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Anna would kill me if she found out.”

Dean shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Oh? What makes you say that?

“Because the reason she broke up with me is because I kept looking at you. She told me I should do something about it, but then you were all mad at me about breaking up with her, and then we got this whole rivalry thing after, so I never did anything about, even though you’re the hottest, smartest guy I’ve ever met—and please shut me up.”

Castiel paused a long moment, then leaned across the table, grabbed the collar of Dean’s shirt, and kissed him. It was sloppy and tasted like the wine they’d just shared, but a fire ignited in Castiel’s body at feeling Dean’s lips move against his. Too long had they played this game, competing for petty reasons and avoiding getting too close.

When they pulled apart, Dean murmured, “Stay the night?”

Castiel smiled. “Well, I think I’ve had too much wine to drive.”

“Funny how that worked out.”

“You’re a devious one, Winchester.”

Dean gripped Castiel’s tie and pulled him down for another kiss. “Bedroom,” Dean said.

Castiel indulged him.

#

“Jo just had a chapbook published,” Dean said, staring at Castiel in the hallway. Students looked on in amusement.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t over, Winchester.”

“I’d hope not.” Dean smirked. “Our anniversary wouldn’t be complete without a competitive, romantic dinner.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Dean walked up and kissed Castiel’s cheek. “I love you.”

Castiel cracked a smile. “Fine. I love you, too.”

The students “aww”ed. Before Dean could tell them to move along, Castiel grabbed the professor’s hand and pushed a slip of paper into it, then walked into his classroom without any explanation. Dean went into his own classroom and waited until he was behind his desk to open the slip of paper. It was a haiku.

_If love were a game,_

_I’d want to compete with you_

_and play forever._


End file.
